Judge Not Too Hastily Poem by John Critchley Prince

Oh! judge not too hastily man and his mind,
Nor deem ye can read him at once and for aye,
There is some reservation, some secret behind
The face that ye look upon, look as ye may.
The moon has her aspects of change in the skies,
With her broad shield of silver, her crescent of gold,
But still there remains, turned away from our eyes,
A part of her orb we can never behold.
Even such is our nature, yet do not despair,
But foster kind feeling whatever befall;
Wait, watch, and examine, with kindness and care,
And grudge not the charity due unto all.

In outward demeanour, look, action and speech,
We alter with circumstance, meaning no ill,
Unconsciously changing our manner to each,
Through an instinct that prompteth the heart or the will.
In the presence of some our affections rebel,
With others our natural sympathies glow;
But the power, which, by turns, doth attract and repel,
Is beyond what our limited wisdom can know.
Even such is our nature, but be of good cheer,
Nor let a first feeling your reason enthral ;
Ye can be kind and truthful to those ye hold dear,
And still render charity due unto all.

How oft we encounter, from home-life apart,
The shy and forbidding, the frank and the bold!
But the sternest in face may be kindest at heart,
And the liveliest inwardly shallow and cold.
Yon stranger who seemeth all goodness and grace,
In worldly proprieties careful alway,
May be burning with passions that warp and debase,
And building up schemes to allure and betray.
Even such is man's nature, yet be ye not sad
That the light of his virtues seems fitful and small,
Acknowledge all good, make the best of the bad,
And thus render charity due unto all.

A false one may hail us in vesture of light,
And scatter with flowers the by-ways of wrong;
A true one may haunt us in robes of the night,
And watch that we stumble not, passing along;
One frowns in his virtues; one smiles in his crimes,
One smites, while another uplifts from the ground;
But our faith should be this—for we feel it sometimes—
That commixed with all evil some good may be found.
Then judge not too hastily, lest ye condemn,
And banish some angel ye cannot recall;
To the firm of pure purpose, give honour to them
To the frail give the charity due unto all.